She thrashes, thighs quivering around my head, her hands fisting my hair to force my face deeper. I work her mercilessly until she shatters, her body convulsing, walls pulsing around my tongue as she screams my name in ecstasy, her release coating my chin.
I pull back, licking her essence from my lips with a satisfied chuckle, but I’m far from done with this divine temptress. I rise to grab my whiskey, holding her gaze as I sip, then begin unbuttoning my shirt slowly, revealing inch by inch of skin.
“My turn,” I rasp, voice thick with need.
Her eyes ignite with fresh lust. She retrieves the dagger, pressing its flat side against her breast, the tip dimpling herskin, and beckons me with a crooked finger, promising depths of pleasure.
She’ll claim me with more than fingers tonight, and I’ll beg for every savage stroke.
Chapter Three
I waketo a letter that destroys my lingering good mood from last night with De. The letter simply states, ‘Today’s sentences have been cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances. You are not needed today. Apologies.’
Fuck.
I rarely have a day off and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I need to kill. I need blood. I need to satisfy the monster within me. If I don't, who knows what will happen.
I stab my fork into my breakfast, playing with my food. I pick up the sausage and tear the fucker in two between my teeth while staring out of my cottage window at the greying sky, wondering if a storm is coming. I hope so. I love the rain, the darkness, and the chill across my skin that comes with it. The thunder booming and the lightning striking through the swirling clouds.
I finish my breakfast, don my hooded cape and decide to head out for a walk, but not before I grab my favourite little knife that I have so muchfunwith.
My feet take me into the nearby forest. The heavens have opened and now cry on me, soaking me to the bone. My boots splash through soggy mud and trample mushed up leaves.
No animals in sight to capture and not a soul around. Tranquil. I take a hidden path, covered in tree decay and thorns, and find myself deep within the forest. I spot a squirrel perched on the tree in front of me, and I crouch down as silently and slowly as I can, hoping I can get a decent aim and throw my dagger at it.
As I line up my dagger with the squirrel, which is washing itself in the rain, a scuffle nearby catches my attention. I crouch down lower as the rodent scurries off clearly as spooked as I am.
“Goddamn, stupid map.” I hear a man mutter to himself. “Piece of shit.”
I move around my tree to try to see the man. There he is. All by himself looking at a soggy bit of parchment and then looking around at all the trees. He’s lost. Maybe I should offer to help him…
I palm my dagger tighter and keep it hidden within my cape. “Excuse me? Are you okay there, sir?” I ask, startling him.
His body sags with relief yet shudders from the coldness of the rain. “I’m lost and this map is of no use to me. Can you tell me how to get to London from here? It seems ridiculous that I have ended up in the middle of a forest.” He throws the soggy mess onto the floor.
I suppress a smile at his frustration. “We are just on the outskirts; it’s not that far from here. I can lead you out of this forest, if you'd like?”
He nods and walks towards me. “Lead the way, Miss…?” He looks me up and down as he waits for my answer, just like my father used to. His eyes darken and he gives me a wicked grin. It’s a sign I know all too well, a sign of his true intentions.
“Grimes,” I lie.
“Lead the way, Miss Grimes, I owe you a great debt for helping me today.” I smile with mock-sweetness at him and he returns the gesture as I turn around to head deeper into the forest, rather than out of it.
“What brings you to London?” I ask, making small talk.
“I’m here on rumours of a witch hunt starting soon. I want to join,” he responds, casually, picking up on my small talk vibes.
I stop to look at him, water dripping off my hooded cloak, and I wipe my face.
“Witch hunt? What do you mean?”
This sounds intriguing.
I carry on walking through the forest, waiting for him to answer me.
“Women have magical powers. It’s the devil's work. They need to be stopped and burnt before their magic gets out of hand. Witchcraft is no joke, young lady.”
I relish this information; I haven't heard any such rumours of a witch hunt here, but I am aware of witches. Also, young lady? I am nearly thirty.
